The Anatomy of a Broken Heart
by JenLea
Summary: SLASH In the aftermath of his break-up with Reid, Morgan is living in a hotel. It's driving his best friend crazy. She will go to any length to get him out of the hotel. This is the account of just how far she'll go.


The Anatomy Of A Broken Heart

disclaimer: you recognize them, I don't own them.

Six weeks.

That's how long Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid have been separated.

It started out as some minor argument. Morgan can't even remember what they were fighting about. Knowing them...it could have been anything from a dispute about taking the garbage out to ordering the wrong side sauce for hot wings. They tended to argue about anything and everything really.

Whatever that minor argument had been...it had turned into something major.

Morgan had been living in a hotel. He knew that he ought to try to find an apartment but the thought of that reminded him of everything he had lost and it was paralyzing. It wasn't great but it was just where he wanted to be.

The room was small and void of personal effects, just right for his current emotional state. He had his meals brought up twice a day by room service. His clothes were laundered twice a week by the Chinese laundry up the street. It wasn't a great life but it was his. He figured he would make the best out of his bad situation.

"I think Reid misses you." Penelope Garcia confided in him one Friday night. "Ever since you two broke up… It's like he's a whole different person." She sighed, taking in the hotel room. "When are you going to move out of this place? I'm telling you only sad lonely people live in hotels."

"When I'm ready! I just don't think it's the right time. The housing market is bad. I can't find anything I want. Baby girl, please leave me alone about it." He blindly groped for his triple shot of whiskey. "When I'm ready, you'll be the first to know!"

"Always an excuse with you."

At the beginning of his third month in the hotel, Morgan reluctantly agreed to check out a few apartments that Garcia had found on craigslist. He was fine where he was but knowing Garcia the way he did, it was easier just to appease his baby girl than to try to argue with her.

Of the three he saw, they were all memorable and not in a good way.

The first one had been described as a "garden adjacent apartment." The tile in the bathroom was peeling up and it smelled like old people. The worst part about it had been trying to figure out where the garden was. Was it the dead patch of earth with the single withered lettuce plant on it? Could it have been the concrete patio with the potted palm tree? Either way, he considered it false advertising.

The second place had been beautiful. Large windows that brought lots of sun in, a beautiful marble bathtub And an amazing eat-in kitchen were just some of the amenities that drew him in. He had been two seconds away from signing the lease when the realtor had informed him that just last week it had been a crack house. The plus side? It had been a very elite crack house. Morgan didn't care though. Former crack houses tended to draw in unsavory types. He was a registered gun owner but really didn't want to have to use it.

Even a sad guy living in a hotel has standards.

The third place was a drab basement. The white painted was yellow with time. He thought that he had seen a rat trap somewhere. Plus there was the small fact that the family above him had like nine kids and they all played the violin. Even the showing has been insanely noisy. He just didn't believe the homeowner who swore up-and-down that the noise was a rarity.

"It was a disaster," Morgan grumbled. "If you send me out on anymore of these, do your research!" He poured a triple shot of whiskey into a glass.

"I did the best I could! None of them look that bad on the Internet." Garcia rolled her eyes. "No more. So I still think you need to get out of this hotel."

"I said it once and I'll say it again. When I'm ready!"

One night not long after, Morgan received something extra with his room service dinner. It was a long stemmed red rose with a note tied around it.

Loosening The note, he pulled it off. Then he unrolled the fine linen paper And noticed Garcia's familiar handwriting.

_Derek,_  
_Please forgive me in advance. You deserve so much better than that damn hotel so I felt that this was necessary. Go to Amore at 10 PM and sit at the bar. Bring the Rose. If this goes well, you'll forgive me._  
_Love,_  
_Penelope_

Morgan arrived at Amore at 9:30 PM. He wasn't sure what Garcia had up her sleeve but he knew that he would rather be early for it than late.

"Vodka martini. Make it extra dirty." He rolled the rose stem between his hands.

"I hope you don't expect a kiss after you eat those garlic stuffed olives."

Morgan squeezed his eyes shut. He would know that voice anywhere. Somehow he should have known that his hotel room hating best friend would do something like setting him up with his ex.

"Spencer…" Morgan tensed up. "Funny running into you here." His grip tightened on the rose.

"I was a stubborn asshole."

Morgan noticed Reid sat directly next to him.

"The past couple months have been absolute hell. I should have apologized and just taken out the trash." Reid sighed. "Can we try again?"

Morgan spun around. Hadn't he dreamt of this moment? What was he supposed to do?

"Pretty boy, I would be lying if I said I hadn't missed you." Morgan decided to choose his words very carefully. "I can't say yes…" He noticed Reid's face fall. "I also can't say no." He passed the rose to Reid. "What I can tell you is I am willing to try."

Morgan pressed his lips to Reid in a passionate frenzy. In the three years that they had been on-again off-again, it had never failed to amaze him and make him wonder how their lips always seemed to fit together so perfectly.

"Back to my hotel now!" Morgan exclaimed, frantically running his hand up and down Reid's side.

On that particular night, the hotel room once so full of sadness, was full of happiness and the hope for a brighter tomorrow.

It was just where Derek Morgan wanted to be.


End file.
